


The Necromancer's Wife

by datemate



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Horror, Other, Poetry, i like writing poetry about spooky shit, so it'll periodically update as i write new things, this is where i'm gonna keep all my horror/monster poetry, unless i decide to make a new colletion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-16 05:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datemate/pseuds/datemate
Summary: A collection of horrific poems to tickle your spine and tingle your fancychapter titles are poem titles





	1. The Necromancer's Wife

_May death do us part,_   
_if only for a short while._

Her hair is frayed  
with clumps of dirt.  
Her lips are cold  
like long-dead worms.  
Her eyes like milk  
see past this world.

Her black lace gown,  
made from silk that spiders' sewn,  
is stained yet darker;  
dyed with blood that is not her own.

Without a beating heart to rest  
deep inside her rotting breast,  
Instead you gave her yours to hold,  
to cradle 'tween hands, pale and cold.  
Even in death, her beauty doesn't fade,  
your lifeless love from beyond the grave.

Black dress  
Black hair  
Damp earth  
Stale air  
Pale eyes  
Black veins  
Cold lips  
do share  
a kiss  
of death,  
A gentle stare.

She beckons you from the other side  
to make the corpse in black your bride.  
She's death's mistress,  
their fates entwined,  
But you can share her.  
You don't mind.

For fear of scorn,  
for fear of fear,  
hold her close as they draw near.  
Run, flee, and hide away  
from the fire and pitchforks' stakes.  
But you'll be fine,  
such is the life  
of the necromancer's wife.

She's cold as death  
and twice as lovely,

Your living corpse bride.

_I do._


	2. The Thing Under the Stairwell Rails

The thing beneath the stairwell rails  
greets me every night  
It used to scare me when I was young  
filled my small child body with fright

The thing under the stairwell rails  
cries out to me each night  
I hear its ugly wails  
But I never go and check  
Even when it sounds like it's in pain  
I pretend that I don't listen  
I tell myself it's just the rain

The thing beneath the stairwell rails  
is just as scared as I am  
There's someone in its home  
stomping up and down the stairs

The thing under the stairwell rails  
it greets me every night  
But we've made our peace with one another  
I brush my teeth and say "goodnight"


	3. Hello?

slanted ceilings  
shuddering walls  
rotting floorboards  
unending halls  
wrought-iron bedframes  
unoccupied stalls  
anemic streetlights  
unanswered calls


	4. Hello? (reprise)

Slanted ceilings dripping with spiderwebs.  
The walls shudder, like a dead man's last breath.  
Floorboards lie rotting beneath careful feet.  
Halls wander. They have no end. Forever.  
Wrought-iron bedframes sit cold in the dark.  
Bathroom stalls with no one inside. Empty.  
Dust motes hang, suffocating on the air.  
Anemic sodium streetlights outside.  
There is a dying heartbeat here. Listen.  
One small, single word, remains unanswered.


	5. My Vampire Boyfriend

My boyfriend is a vampire  
It's not as bad as you think  
It's a change  
But so is getting a job  
Or buying a car  
Or moving out of your parents' basement  
    and into your own basement  
We've had to make adjustments, sure  
But it's nothing we can't handle  
  
My vampire boyfriend is allergic to garlic  
It makes him break out in a rash  
Which always look worse than they actually are  
    because his skin is lily-fucking-white  
He gazes longingly at the doggy bags I bring home  
    from the pizza place down the street  
They always had the best garlic bread  
One time I forgot to rinse my mouth out before I kissed him  
Who knew knew you could get hives on your tongue?  
  
My vampire boyfriend can't stand the sun  
Baseball caps make him look like a doofus  
And people always look at him funny  
    when he's walking with a parasol over his shoulder  
Too bad they don't make sunscreen strong enough  
    for people as pasty as him  
He makes printer paper look tan  
He always wears sunglasses during the day  
    even indoors  
He looks like such an asshole  
One time he got himself so sunburned  
    I found him asleep buck-naked in the bath  
    filled entirely with icewater and aloe-vera  
He was so pink you'd think a bottle of pepto-bismol  
    sprouted legs and decided to take a nap in our bathtub  
He couldn't wear shirts for a week  
  
My vampire boyfriend has a thing for red meat  
The bloodier the better  
I never knew there was such a thing as a "blue" steak  
I once found him sitting on the couch in his boxer shorts  
    watching _Fright Night_ and eating raw hamburger straight out of the package  
When I said I wasn't kissing him until he brushed his fangs  
    he shrugged and said "fair enough"  
    and scooted over so we could finish it together  
  
My vampire boyfriend can't see himself  
So I help him with his hair  
And his eyeliner  
Some black lipstick and smokey-eye if we're feeling adventurous  
He always has trouble putting his earrings in  
    'cause he can never find the hole  
I once leaned into our closet and asked him why   
    we only have about four shirts between us that aren't black  
He said it's our aesthetic  
"Stupid, Gay, and Goth"  
I just laughed  
He's not  _wrong_  
  
My boyfriend is a vampire  
I can feel it when he kisses my neck  
leaves little roses along my throat  
it'd be so easy  
little pinpricks  
break the skin  
rip out my jugular  
drain me dry  
He never does it  
but I love the danger  
I'm fucking a monster  
and the monster is letting me


	6. Yellow Eyes

From out of the depths,  
a Siren song.  
Yellow eyes,  
wide and unblinking,  
stare back.  
There seems to be a mistake.  
This creature should not exist.

Long, black mermaid hair.  
Creeping tendrils curling.  
Dark, green, leathery skin  
speckled with tiny, glowing freckles.  
Its gills flare out.  
_Bioluminescence,_  
your mind supplies.

Its nails have been sharpened on rocks.  
Uneven teeth and sandpaper tongue.  
Every edge on it is sharp.

Its home is made of decaying driftwood,  
held together  
by the crushing depths.  
Too far down  
to continue the rot.

It crawls up, out of the water  
and empties its chest.  
Coughing.  
Hacking.  
Vomiting up water.  
Yellow eyes meet yours for a moment,  
then it scurries away into the trees.

You decide it's best to stay inside tonight.


	7. Takeout Dinner

Eat up, boy.

Sorry about the mess  
This one was a tough catch  
Had to fight like hell to get him down.

Oh come on.

Don't tell me you've lost your appetite already.  
After everything I've done for you?  
After all the work I put in to get you this meal?  
The least you could do is eat what I brought you.

Alright, fine.

If you're not going to eat him  
At least brush your teeth before you go to bed.


	8. O

His eyelids were actually lips  
his tongues flicked out  
and wetted his lashes  
writhing wet muscle in place of vitreous fluid  
slurried saliva rolled down his cheeks  
in vile, viscous tear-tracks  
gaping throats, twitching just behind his retinas  
optic nerves strung up where they shouldn't be  
stretched taut into makeshift vocal chords

His mouth opened into a small 'o'  
no bigger than a nickel  
and something peeked out from between his lips  
like a child eating a grape  
except the grape was an eyeball  
and instead of being sucked in and chewed up  
it turned and looked at me  
with a pale, milky iris  
that had likely never seen the light of day

I didn't scream  
I didn't run  
I didn't faint  
I just froze  
I couldn't move  
It couldn't be real

But then his eyelids spoke to me  
in a unison, two-tone voice  
they said,  
"You have something that belongs to us"


	9. Word Salad

my brain goes to dark places sometimes  
eating worms in the dirt with tiny rocks and roots  
calm down it's not that deep  
conscious stream tells me to eat  
eat my own word salad  
if I were made to eat my own words I'd throw up  
mouth caked in sand and mold  
spongy tongue, old rotten cheese  
holes  
tiny worms  
needles in my tongue  
little hands all over you eating your soul  
worms in the heart of a dog  
swallow a pill you'll be fine  
when your heart is hollow have a pill to swallow  
worms in your soul  
hello, fuck you  
little worm hands eating holes into your soul  
become the dirt  
mucous membranes peristaltic movement  
eat the dirt eat the garbage  
calm the fuck down  
and eat your salad


	10. Family Friend

It lives in your home  
you never see it  
but you know it's there  
always in mirrors  
reflections  
the corner of your eye  
the split-second after you blink  
before your eyes adjust

Horrible pink skin  
a child's bedsheet shawl  
black teeth and clay-white lips  
above a hanging jaw

It shambles about  
from room to room  
checking  
for places to hide  
making sure everything's in order

It's in all the family photos  
snuck its way into the albums  
between the rolls of film  
always in the background  
always just out of sight

Out of sight  
but not out of mind

Never out of mind


	11. When will the crows come home?

When will the crows come home?  
bring their shiny trinkets  
back to cobbled nests  
in roofs and rafters  
intelligent eyes  
like tiny  
shiny insects  
jet black feathers  
blot out the sky  
when a family flies  
you cannot see the stars

You know you should be frightened  
but your mind fills with static  
thoughts slipping away  
like ink down a wet newspaper  
reduced to a slimy puddle of pulp


	12. I met a man with worms in his face

I met a man with worms in his face.  
He had worms in his eyes  
and worms in his teeth,  
worms in his tongue  
and worms in his cheeks.  
He had worms in his hair  
and worms in his ears  
and it wouldn't surprise me  
if he had worms in his brain.


	13. I can play 8 instruments

I can play 8 instruments.

A scalpel  
forceps  
needle  
and thread,  
blood  
and bone  
and skin  
and flesh.

I can play 8 instruments.


	14. Penumbra

the man clad in leather gloves  
smelling of damp earth  
and dead leaves  
and something decidedly supernatural

the black lips of the mask upturned just slightly  
it smiles at me  
through the black and the white

it strikes me that he has no eyes  
just empty black holes  
behind the mask

he turns  
and looks at me

or not

I can't tell

there is only darkness  
where his eyes should be

I press a kiss to the fake, unresponsive lips of the mask  
lick my way past the black marker  
and into the soft, warm mouth behind it

he tastes like a dying forest  
like rotting leaves  
and cigarette smoke  
molding cedar  
damp, untanned leather

his hair smells like rain  
wet wood  
and metal

his hands are like cold stones  
solid  
unyielding  
his touch like ice  
like fire  
so cold it burns  
into my skin  
even through his leather gloves

he tastes like leaves  
like green  
bark  
pinecones and fir trees  
needles and mushrooms and lichen and moss  
alive like the forest

dead like the forest

the mushrooms that grow on a dying tree  
the flowers that sprout where a small creature lies  
leaving behind its life for others to pick up and take  
the hornets buried in the corpse of a bird  
where little dandelions grow  
where one dies so another can thrive  
where life and death meet

the forest


	15. To Grandmother's House We Go

Doilies and fine china teapots  
scattered  
broken  
and stained  
the house is a mess  
the walls are blanketed in vegetation  
the outside slowly creeping in  
all the furniture is rotted  
from the inside out  
the air is musty  
and reeks of decay  
  
A sweet little babushka  
all wrapped up in a lacy headscarf  
even the air around her feels dead  
  
Her teacup clinks softly  
as she places it on the saucer  
the tea smells fetid  
it swirls around in the cup like rotten jelly  
there are flies floating on its surface  
she smiles and you realize why  
she has no lips to drink it  
flesh peeled back from fallow teeth  
her unseeing eyes don't miss a thing  
sunk so far into their holes  
you can barely tell she has any  
  
Her little feet swing back and forth  
like a child in a too-tall chair  
her toes make little tap-tap-tapping sounds  
as they brush the floor  
  
Her mouth falls open with a dusty creak  
and in a voice like cobwebs she says,  
"Oh, my dear. I've got pests in my basement.  
There's a reward waiting for you  
if you bring me their teeth."  
  
The stairs moan as you descend  
you smell death  
there comes a wet squelching from beneath your foot  
a little red maggot  
popped by your careless step  
it dies with a warbling gasp  
and you get the unmistakable feeling  
that you shouldn't be here  
  
In the center of the puddle  
beneath your shoe  
a tooth  
a human tooth  
you try to wipe away the blood  
but the stain merely spreads  
the copper smell makes your stomach turn  
you pocket the little thing  
and venture further down the stairs  
  
The basement floor is wet  
and squirming  
disgusting little worms flee your looming steps  
scattering every which-way  
  
By the time the deed is done  
the basement floor is a mess  
caked in maggot-blood  
and tiny, twitching corpses  
  
Your pants stick to your legs  
as your heavy steps leave dripping, red footprints  
up and down the stairs  
your hands are red and shaking  
as you offer up the teeth  
  
Her skeletal face smiles brightly  
and she plucks them from your palm  
and drops them into her teacup  
one by one  
  
 _clink  
  
clink  
  
clink_  
  
Your bloodied hands wring your shirt  
staining more of your person with the vile red substance  
pretending you aren't trying and failing  
to wipe it away  
  
 _clink  
  
clink  
  
clink_  
  
Grandma laughs like moldy crickets,  
"Ah yes, your reward.  
A word of advice:  
Perhaps next time,  
you should pay more attention  
to  _which_  little old lady's house  
you're wandering into."


	16. A Changeling's Love

I am not who you think I am  
You call me "son"  
"daughter"  
"child"  
"dear one"  
even though I cannot answer

My vocal chords are made of bark  
My throat is full of woodlice  
My teeth are brier thorns  
My fingers coiled tendrils of branches  
My toes are roots  
that keep me anchored to the Earth  
to Mother

You dote on me  
love me  
adore me  
fuss over me  
bring me soup  
and blankets  
and hot tea  
when all I do is look at you  
with my glassy pebble eyes

It is a thankless, Sisyphean task  
to raise a child  
and yet you dote  
and fuss  
and care  
and love  
each day  
from dawn til dusk  
and sometimes even after  
all the birds have gone to sleep

You've given me more  
than I could've ever dreamed  
But I can't dream  
Tree stumps don't dream

You've given me everything you could  
But even you could not give me a voice  
to murmur like a babbling brook  
to croak like the toads on the banks  
of the stream that nourishes my family  
to whisper like the wind through the leaves  
of the great oak I call "mother"  
to tell you

that I love you, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to resist the urge to title this one "Do Tree Stumps Dream of Topiary Sheep?"


	17. Visitor Information

A man walks in a parking lot at night.  
Noticing footsteps, he turns to greet me.  
His eyes are tired, but his smile is bright.  
I see the yellow in all of his teeth.

It becomes clear something is very wrong,  
scalp clinging to what remains of his hair.  
His skin is pallid, his lashes all gone,  
a garbage bag jumpsuit needing repair.

He'd caught it from an old clayground playmate,  
every moment a waking nightmare,  
the man was now in a similar state;  
Contagious madness, and he'd like to share.

     And that's all the visitor information.  
     Come find me should you have any questions.


End file.
